Adversaries
by dollsom
Summary: Alone at the mental hospital, Castiel confronts the ghosts of his past.


**Summary:** There are a lot of ghosts in Castiel's head.  
><strong>CharactersShips:** A lot of characters (kind of), but it's a character study of Castiel. Also, Castiel's love for Dean is canon, so that makes it's way in here.  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up to and including episode 7.17 "The Born Again Identity"  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not my property, not profiting from this  
><strong>Reviews:<strong> I live for them

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><p>It is difficult to describe what Heaven is like. There are individual human heavens, of course, but underneath all of those is something else. The place where angels lived before humanity, before The Fall. To put it into terms that human senses would understand is impossible. But if Castiel were asked to, the first word he would reach for is "bright".<p>

The hospital room is very bright, the light of humming flourescent bulbs relfecting off the white walls and furnishings, but it's very far removed from Heaven. Not as far as Hell, of course, though for Castiel it's getting there.

Castiel stands by the window, looking out at the world where hundreds of people died by his hand, and who knows how many more were killed by leviathans. Where Sam and Dean are, somewhere, dealing with his mess alone. Castiel wishes he could do more to help them.

Uriel joins him. For a moment Castiel allows his guilt to slip to the back of his mind, and instead imagines that he's back in the old days. The days before the Winchesters, when he was stationed on earth with the brothers he misses, simply watching. It's pleasant, for a short while. Then Uriel speaks. "This all could have been avoided, you know. If you had joined me when I asked."

Castiel smirks. "You must be running low on ideas. That is one decision for which I have absolutely no regret."

"Is it?" Uriel cocks his head, giving Castiel a quizzical look. "But the Apocalypse would have been so much more effective at bringing about peace on earth than your own messy, ineffectual attempt."

Castiel tenses.

"Surely you recognized humanity for the worthless, caniblaistic scum that it is," Uriel continues, the rich melody of his voice contrasting with the ugliness of his words. "Isn't that why you killed so many of them?"

Now Castiel recognizes the game that his brother is playing; it has become familiar to him over the past weeks. "I won't defend myself," he says grimly. "Suffice to say, I still despise all that Lucifer stood for."

"That hurts my feelings, bro." Lucifer is standing where Uriel was.

Castiel almost breathes a sigh of relief. There is a simplicity to dealing with the hallucination in it's root form, and he has become adept at preventing the likeness of his once-favoured brother from getting under his skin. Unfortunately, that means that the hallucination has been branching out, becoming more complex in its deceptions. But for now it's just Lucifer, and Castiel relaxes into their now well-worn pattern of interaction.

"You're a memory, a figment. You have no feelings." Castiel turns away from the window and reclines on the bed, crossing his legs at the ankle and folding his hands in his lap. He assumes an air of confidence and control - he will beat this thing yet.

Lucifer shrugs. "Of course, an angel isn't supposed to have feelings at all." He smiles fondly. "That's something else you and I have in common."

Castiel knows by now not to consider what the hallucination says too deeply, to not give it an inch of ground. "I am nothing like you."

"Like you were nothing like me?" Anna asks.

Castiel blinks and turns away from her sad brown eyes. This is not the first time his sister has appeared to him, but the sympathy and dissappointment in her gaze still cuts him to the bone. Which may be why Anna seems to be one of the hallucination's new favourite guises.

"Can you imagine what it would have been like, if you hadn't sold me out? If you hadn't broken me?" The gentleness of her voice hurts Castiel just as much as the accusation that it forms. He has imagined. She continues, "You and me against the Host of Heaven. You and me and the Winchesters. Being friends again, like we once were. Being more like family than ever before."

Of course the Winchesters had been Castiel's friends. But Anna had understood Castiel in a way that they never could, and he understood her in a way that escaped him with humans. He longed for the bond that they might have had; and now he was being taunted with it.

Castiel closes his eyes. "You're not real," he grits out.

Anna pulls a chair up next to the bed, and sits down. She places a hand gently on his arm, and Castiel doesn't have the heart to pull away from her. "You were right, you know. We are nothing alike. I never betrayed my family." Castiel wishes that Anna would spit her words out like ammunition, instead of stating them as simple truths. "Not like you did. Not like Lucifer did."

The comparisson riles the very instinct that Castiel has been trying to suppress. "No!" His gaze snaps to meet Anna's. "I was trying-" Castiel catches himself, and clamps his mouth shut.

"What were you trying to do, Cas?"

Castiel looks away, but he can still feel Anna's gaze on him, imploring. He rises from the bed, and walks to an empty corner of the room, collecting himself. "It doesn't matter. I was wrong."

"Well, if you're not going to defend yourself to her, maybe you can defend yourself to me."

Castiel spins around, to see the human face that he has come to think of as his own staring back at him.

"I think I at least deserve an explanation," Jimmy says indignantly.

This is a new tactic, and the shock of seeing his vessel sitting in front of him almost prompts a response from Castiel. "I... No. No, you're not real and I won't humour you." He stalks over to the window, bracing himself, tense, against the sil.

"Okay, so I'm not real." Castiel fixes his gaze on the horizon, doing his best to ignore Jimmy's voice. "But Jimmy's still in this room, and my guess? He probably wants to know what you have to say for yourself." Castiel hears the chair scrape against the floor, and footsteps as Jimmy approaches him. "I mean... he gave his life... for this?"

Castiel hangs his head and shuts his eyes in resignation, unable to shake off the truth of what the hallucination was saying. "I'm sorry," he says, voice so low and full of grief it's almost a moan. "I did my best."

"And your best just wasn't good enough."

Castiel starts at the familiar voice, and turns to face one of the last individuals he was expecting to see - Zachariah. Why the hallucination would appear as someone he feels nothing but unvarnished contempt for, he doesn't know.

"You're a cog, Castiel," his former superior says, and Castiel can already feel his loathing brewing at Zachariah's smug expression. "A tiny, little, insignificant cog in the Heavenly machine." Zachariah snickers. "Did you really think you could win against Heaven?_ Really_ win? You weren't built to lead, you were built to follow."

"My will is my own," Castiel sneers. He says with grim satisfaction, "And you may not have noticed, but I._ Did_. Win."

Zachariah morphs into Lucifer before Castiel's eyes, but his self-satisfied smirk stays in place. "Now there's some of the fire that I like to see."

Castiel recoils, realizing the path he was being manipulated along, and paces across the room.

"It makes me sad, Cas, that you don't take pride in your accomplishments."

"What do you want from me?" he snarls, and turns to face his adversary, eyes bright with rage. "I'll admit: I'm just like you. I'm proud. And evil. And I deserve to burn in Hell. Like you do."

Lucifer frowns and shrugs. "Getting warmer," he says, and steps forward. "Now I just need you to embrace it."

"What?"

Lucifer ambles towards his brother. "Own it, Castiel. Become what you truely are."

Castiel shrinks away until he backs into the desk by the door. He shakes his head and says softly, "No."

"Stop pretending," Lucifer cajoles. "After all..." his form is replaced by Raphael, who contiues to approach Castiel with measured steps. "You made Heaven into another kind of Hell for your bretheren." Now Rachel is moving towards him. "You treated your soldiers no better than the Devil treats his army of demons." Sam stops, inches away from Castiel. "As for the way you treat your friends..."

A wave of shame washes over Castiel. Sam withstood such torment for months, thanks to him, and now he's ready to give in to the madness after only a few short weeks? He steels himself. If he has to battle with Lucifer every day for eternity, it would be justice.

Castiel looks Sam in the eye. "I regret my crimes; I won't let them define me. And if I can't set them right, then I will at least pay for them for the rest of my existence."

It's Lucifer who backs away, rolling his eyes at Castiel's sincerity.

At that moment, Meg walks in. Her gaze slides up and down Castiel's form - still leaning back against the desk, eyes fixed on Lucifer - and rolls her eyes. She shoves a paper cup full of pills under Castiel's nose, and his eyes shift to meet hers, his expression wary.

"Take them," Meg snaps impatiently. "I don't want to get in trouble for you throwing them out again."

Castiel takes the cup and swallows the pills without water, knowing they'll have no effect on him.

Meg perches next to him on the desk.

"How're you doing, angel cakes?"

Castiel sneaks a glance at the hallucination. It's leaning against the far wall of the room, wearing the visage of Dean Winchester, glaring at him with cold, seething disdain.

Castiel shivers.

"I've been better."

Meg nods vaguely. "You realize that Sam isn't the only one you screwed over while you were playing god, right?"

"You don't need to remind me," Castiel scowls.

"Apparently I do. You can't put things right while you're stuck up in here."

"Your concern over my redemption is touching," Castiel deadpans, and paces over to stand by the foot of the bed, trying to distance himself from the demon, if not from the crush of his own guilt.

"Hey, I need you firing on all cylinders. So do your boys. And as thrilled as I am that you've rejoined the world of the responsive, it's not enough. So whatever your issues are, you might want to hurry up fixing them."

"I am trying," Castiel says, and it's true. He's no longer locked inside his own head the way he was a few weeks ago. It's been a struggle to get this far, but Castiel is determined to become fully functional once again.

"And you know that however you might want to..." Meg slides off the desk and saunters towards him. "... work them out..." She crowds into his personal space. "I'm here to help."

Castiel refuses to react to Meg's provocation, and after a tense moment, she smiles and leaves the room. Castiel wishes intensely that he was not in such need of her help.

"You know why we left you with Meg?" Dean asks.

"Because I'm no better than she is," Castiel answers calmly, and refuses to look at the hallucination. "In fact, I'm far worse."

"You disgust me," Dean says.

"Then things are as they should be."

"Oh, come on, Cassie." At the sound of Balthazar's voice Castiel loses his composure and whirls around to face the likeness of his dead brother. "You don't have to pretend with me. I'm in your head, after all. We both know that what that ridiculous sack of meat and bones thinks is a lot more important to you than that. A lot more important than me, obviously. Stabbed me in the back without a second thought -"

"- that's not -"

"- then enlighten me, dear brother. Exactly what happened there? Because my memory is pretty clear..."

"You abandoned me!" Castiel exclaims, forgetting momentarily that Balthazar isn't real, and needing desperately to justify what he did because it was so unjustifiable. Then he realizes what he's saying. "Oh god... I'm sorry - I shouldn't... I'm so sorry." Castiel apologizes to the brother who isn't really there with him, to the father he tried to replace, to the world in general.

"Of course you are." It's Crowley that's sneering at him now. Castiel recoils, feeling as dirty as he always did when working with his erstwhile partner. He stumbles when he backs into the bed, sitting down on it hard. "That's all you ever were," Crowley continues, as if making light conversation. "A sorry, sad little soldier, playing general, playing god. You never really were good or righteous. That's what made you such an easy little piece." Crowley smirks salaciously. He ambles towards the bed and bends down so his lips brush Castiel's ear. Castiel grits his teeth and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the demon's presence, telling himself that it's not real. "I know what you really are, Castiel," he whispers. "You're weak. And sooner or later you'll stop denying it."

Castiel feels a weight ease down next to him on the bed. He opens his eyes. He's with Lucifer again.

"And I will shape you into one of mine."

There is a knock at the door, and it cracks open.

"Cas?"

Lucifer flickers and disappers. Confused, Castiel turns from the empty space next to him to the source of the familiar voice at the door behind him.

"Dean? What are you doing here?"

Dean steps tentatively into the room. "I'm here to take you... well, not home, 'cause we don't actually have one, but... you're coming with Sam and me."

Castiel blinks. "I am?"

"Yeah." A half-hearted smile quirks the corner of Dean's mouth, but Castiel could swear that pained sadness was lingering in the man's eyes. "You didn't think we'd just leave you here forever, did you?"

Castiel doesn't answer.

"So... come on."

Castiel shifts so that he's sitting on the edge of the bed facing the door, but otherwise doesn't move. He casts his eyes downwards, thoughtful.

"No," he says.

Dean steps closer to him. "Cas?"

Castiel shakes his head, but doesn't meet his friend's eyes. "I'm not well, I can't help you."

"You think that matters?" Dean sits next to him. "Cas, I told you you're like family to me, and I meant it. I'll help you through this."

Castiel shakes his head again, more vigourously. "I dont... I don't deserve-"

He's silenced by Dean's thumb pressing against his lips. Castiel looks up, wide-eyed, startled by the intimacy of the gesture; but Dean doesn't act like he's done anything out of the ordinary. He just fixes Castiel with intent green eyes.

"You deserve to be saved, Cas."

Dean brushes the pad of his thumb across Castiel's lips contemplatively. Castiel feels his fear and guilt and frustration and what little composure he has left melting away. Dean moves his hand up to cup Castiel's cheek in his palm, and Castiel feels like he might be physically melting as well, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing into the bed is Dean's hand on his face. Castiel leans into the touch, cherishing the warmth and closeness, too mentally exhausted to process what's happening. Then Dean's lips are on his, gentle and soft and undemanding. It's what Castiel once imagined a kiss should be: chaste and full of promise. The promise of friendship and forgiveness.

Castiel doesn't open his eyes when Dean pulls away. He burries his face in his hands and feels his body shaking under a small fit of giggles. It's too much, too good to be true. He lifts his gaze to look at Dean.

And Lucifer is there.

Castiel scrambles away until his back hits the headboard.

Lucifer gives him a patronizing smile and shakes his head. "Oh, you poor, silly... _selfish_... little baby." He laughs. "You still let yourself hope." Lucifer stands, looming over Castiel. "You need to learn, li'l brother, that you don't deserve to get better." He raises his voice, yelling, "You don't deserve to get away from me! You don't deserve to be saved."

"No," Castiel murmurs to himself. "I deserve this."


End file.
